Book Review: "Baking Across America: A Vintage Recipe Roadtrip", by B. Dylan Hollis

 

I’ve read A Lot of cookbooks. Whether because I’m researching, reviewing, or even just bored, there’s always something that separates the better and the best. It’s not usually the recipes, the pictures, or even the quality of the volume itself- it’s the theming. A solid modern or contemporary cookbook shows itself best where every page leads organically into the next. Where each recipe has its place both in the section, the book, and even the genre. While I know a good number, it’s still not a common thing, and so I always make a note.

That damn TikTok twink did it twice in a row!

In an impressive first publication, B. Dylan Hollis debuted with Baking Yesteryear, in which he offers a rich historical account of 20^th century American food decade by decade alongside no small amount of recipes from each- including a hilariously awful Worst Of The Worst chapter at the end, because where there are recipes, there are inevitably bad recipes, and whoooo boy did he ever find some clunkers.

Here in his second book Baking Across America, however, we have something very different yet also very familiar. "Baking Across America" does exactly what it says it does. It’s a journey through the U.S., region by region and state by state in search of what might be called the Defining Specialties of each and every one. Now how Dylan went about this is both very clever and very appropriate. Hundreds upon hundreds of cookbooks from every nook and cranny of every last place, and as local as can be- you name the obscure or local organization, he probably found something. Then to scour each and every one looking for recipes and concepts in common, narrowing things down with some quite thorough historical research until there was little if any real doubt about the notions.

There are some (even many) recipes that might raise an eyebrow at first look. My home state of New Jersey is, for example, poleaxed via the alchemical marvel that is the Tomato Soup Cake. Yes, really. And yes, it’s actually rather tasty. No, don’t ask me to explain the why of it here, the chemistry is complex and exhausting. 

BUT! 

The research bears out most each and every recipe ultimately featured here- they’re eminently defensible. Of the ones I couldn’t vouch for offhand, I even did some digging of my own to be sure. Each is introduced with an air of playful, generous fondness. All throughout this book, the recipes are portrayed as so much more than lists of ingredients and instructions. They’re comrades; they’re guides into myriad communities of all shapes and sizes as much as they’re tributes to those who came before and brought those recipes to the modern day one generation at a time. It’s a comprehensive collection that speaks to any number of cultural backgrounds, niche ingredients, and historical minutiae.

If I had a complaint about anything at all in this book, there’s really only one thing that jumps out... or, rather, shies away. For a book so massive, so bombastic in its method, pictures and prose, the text itself is what I found troublesome- the font’s just too damn small! Nearly every recipe fits neatly to a single page, and every last iota of additional space is chock-full of fantastic, brilliantly colorful, largely timeless photographs. While they absolutely do their job highlighting most every facet of every region of the US, I can’t help but wish for a few fewer photos and a larger, more legible font. Now I suppose that if you, like myself and many others, can hear Dylan reading the text aloud in your head as you peruse the thing, it’s going to be more than loud enough to make up the difference. The book’s story is told in no small part by the pictures- America is a bright, colorful, diverse, and VERY BUSY place. The endless array of excellent and nearly overwhelming photography works to emphasize precisely that, and does so while riding the edge of being gratuitous… but not going over.

So, to recap: gorgeous book, rock-solid concept, and superbly executed; but the font is small enough to make rapid read-throughs and referencing more difficult than a cookbook of this caliber ought to be. If you like the concept, the food, or the man himself, you’ll have a great time with Baking Across America. If you want fantastic photos, a plethora of well-researched history lessons, or even just a really pretty coffee table book, you’ll love it too.

I’ll recommend it without reservation.

Book Review: "Being Dead Is No Excuse: The official Southern Ladies guide to hosting the perfect funeral", by Gayden Metcalfe and Charlotte Hayes

I’ll start by stating the obvious: This book is about a very different world from mine.  

But a world that is, in its own way, still familiar.

"Being Dead Is No Excuse: The official Southern Ladies guide to hosting the perfect funeral"

The title alone evokes a lot of things, centered around a tradition so insular and severe it borders on self-parody, and after reading... I'm not sure which side of the line it's on.

Now as someone who has been a chef, caterer, and many other things, event planning is not new to me. I’ve done weddings, birthdays, baby showers, book releases, orgies, and plenty of other interesting happenings- but funerals are one I haven't been tapped for. Now I’m not inexperienced with them by any means- I've been to… well, a lot. 

But there's a world of difference between going to one and handling one. You can in theory attend, grieve, and be gone, and think no more of it. However, not everyone does, or even can. To those who live in the Delta (shorthand for a sizeable chunk of the American Deep South), funerals are an experience like no other, one that's not unlike like surfing a wave, or carving down a slope of fresh powder. There's what's historically or traditionally expected, the variables and variations on the theme, and hidden under a thin veneer of Maybe lies the vast potential for comedic catastrophe.

Spoiling the book would be difficult, because so much of it has eased into the cultural subconscious. But if I attempt to add much in the way of detail, the mood will be off and the impact will suffer, so I'll keep it short.

One key component of funerals like this is something the book's authors are very dedicated to: community. It may not be pretty, and it may not even be nice. But it's theirs, and so it's worth fighting for. Not everyone can, will, or even should find their own community in which to thrive. But once you've got one? People do tend to dig in- and this book makes much and more of that tendency to great effect.

Another key made clear this book is Food. Funereal tradition is absolutely awash in food, so there are a lot of recipes in this book- enough that there's an index in the back. While many of these use the term 'recipe' as loosely as has ever been allowed, and quite deliberately so, Being Dead Is No Excuse goes into painstaking detail about the minutiae of the food and drink of the Southern funeral tradition. In no small part this is a cookbook full of funereal foods that could easily lead to a follow-up death- and they won't deny it for a second. Bring on the mayo and the cream of mushroom soup.

What is perhaps the most interesting part of it all is the underlying Christian denominational turf war- but I'll leave it at that because the joy is truly in the telling.

If you want a good laugh in the manner of Noises Off or perhaps My Fair Lady, this will do you right. I had my eyes closed and my face in my hands at many a point. Sometimes from the stories, sometimes from the snacks, but always with a smile.

Book Review: "Baking Yesteryear", by B. Dylan Hollis

Food media has done some Weird Shit in its time- this is known. But the notion of short form cooking with unusual or unexpectedly interesting recipes is about as common and timeless as it gets (or as much so as the internet gets, at least). That said, carving out a niche of one's own while doing something comparatively common is not easy, requiring a vast amount of luck, charisma, and apparently hair gel. 

Friends would reliably send me little clips of this fellow B. Dylan Hollis. I believe my first experience was "Ice Cream Bread", which I thought about for a second and went "Oh, it's going to end up like pound cake!" before hitting play  (I was right, for the record, and it's a pretty good one.) I looked with care, considered the source, and made a point to take notes on any of them I happened to see. Because it might be a gimmick, but it's a solid gimmick.

Random and/or retro recipes are inevitably a roll of the dice- something I know all too well, having no small amount of the same sorts of cookbooks he pulls from for many of his clips, and for much the same reasons. No small part of the fun of those recipes (and in this case watching him) is wondering of what's actually going to happen, and his endearing boyish charm more than covers the rest. He's the strawberry mimosa sort of twink whose hair I want to muss, then grin at the petulantly frazzled result before I pull him onto the couch to cuddle and watch a movie. If he happens to read this... blush away, kid.

But this is less about his online presence and more about his first book. Not too long before his second one will come out (it's due in May of this year) I decided to pull Baking Yesteryear from the library's shelf and give it a proper look. Yes, I'm a little late to the party, but that's the usual for a poverty-stricken professional like me. Besides, it's not like the recipes are new! Everything in the book is 20th century, and cuts out in the 80s somewhere. There's no real rush- they'll keep a little longer!

The intensity and enthusiasm Hollis has for desserts comes through in near every sentence of the book as readily as it does in his innumerable cooking and baking video clips. In his own words: "it dawned on me that each recipe writer was, in their own way, simply trying to share something that made them feel good... the sharing of a dessert and how to make it was an exercise in sharing happiness." It has the ring of truth to it, and contrived or not, brand or not, it's delightfully charming and as endearing as can be. 

His mien is more or less 'Favorite Grandson goes through Grandma's cookbooks as saucily as if he were a guest on The Golden Girls'. So... me, with more glitter and pizazz but far less precision and expertise. He himself also notes “I’ve often said I’m perhaps one of the only well-known food creators on the internet who hasn’t a clue what he’s doing”.

...I had to pause for a moment there and just laugh. 

And laugh and laugh and laugh. 

Such a dear sweet innocent boy. Small wonder his earnest words ring true!

Before the culinary trip through time begins though, there's a note or two. The recipes break from modern convention and call for salted butter unless otherwise specified. Recall that refrigeration is a 20th century thing, and remained somewhat rare till midcentury. Given butter's consistent expense, it was commonly sold salted to ensure longer shelf life. 

Hollis also hedges his bets here by offering terminology, common ingredients, measurement conversions, and his default cookie scoop (It's a #60, if you were wondering. Mine's a #50- I like them a little bigger.) as well as a superlative pie crust recipe and a basic vanilla buttercream frosting. Those last two likely in case some of the potential components of the recipes as written seem a touch too intimidating or equipment-prohibitive (Not everyone owns a candy thermometer or stand mixer, after all!). He mentions by name the Boiled Frosting, which sounds equal parts complicated and outlandish until you read it- it's basically just Swiss Meringue. Tricky, yes, but not outlandish at all. 

Baking Yesteryear's recipes go through most of the 20th century, decade by decade beginning with the 1900s. Every decade begins with no small amount of stage-setting, sprinkled with personal anecdotes, historical miscellany, and other cleverness to keep you reading and put you in the proper frame of mind for the time and place. Each is as unique as the recipes and circumstances from which they came, and read hungrily.

There are three sections that aren't decades though.

Dates: Something he adores but never seems to get enough of.

No-Bake: Because there were enough of them to justify a separate category.

Worst of the Worst: Explains itself, really. Whooooooo boy.

Bereft of ego, I'm probably one of the best possible people to review this sort of book. I know exactly what Dylan's talking about, where it's coming from, where his approach is coming from, and how to approach it. On every relevant level I understand the subtext- including how to jumble subtext right.

For someone who didn't do food for a living until now, he did a damn fine job with this book. The recipes are clear, succinct, and none too complicated. The concept is sound, the execution stellar, and the voice underneath as clear as can be. It's a good solid read that takes a lot of old things and brings them out of mothballs into the light again. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, and it's not the most useful as a practical cookbook, but as a compiled reference text, coffee table book, and way to get in touch with Grandma, it's a fine work indeed.

They took aim at a childhood treasure.

Someone reeeeally put their foot in it with this one.

Eater: Are Rice Krispie Treats Overrated?

First of all? No!

 

Second of all? What manner of imbecile in food media management tells someone whose whole shtick is Jewish food to give their opinion on something that uses gelatin? You, know, that thing they usually make out of pig's feet?

Immediate facepalm.

Now, a casual reader wouldn't have twigged to that so it's potentially forgivable. And the article starts with A fairly robust bit of background to give a viable shape to the tale. The author is, like myself, a product of the 80s and 90s, when the Rice Krispie Treat was as omnipresent as the Jell-O Jiggler (A different fad which, mercifully, passed), and makes a distinct mention of 1995, when Kellogg's first released the individually packaged version I personally abhor- far too expensive for what you get, even there at the start.

Similarly, when the first recipe showed up on the box in 1941 it was both different and objectively better tasting. The author correctly surmises that the (regrettable and immature) shift in dietary concerns has led to a lower-fat incarnation becoming the standard, which in turn aggressively and adversely affects the quality of the dessert.

But... so? Who actually follows the recipe on today's box? They don't even scale to the measurements of the packaging any more! Marshmallows are now sold in smaller bags, cereal in smaller boxes, and neither of them ratio properly. The first version of that recipe I remember- one I cut off the cereal box and put in my grandma's box of recipe cards when she wasn't looking- called for one bag of marshmallows (at the time 12 oz, now they're 10), half a box of Rice Krispies (you measure one time and then you just know), a third of a cup of melted butter (round it up to 6 tablespoons), and a splash of vanilla. Grandma, in a prescient move, added a pinch of salt. Delicious!

The "recipe" now? Half the butter, no vanilla, more cereal. Of course it doesn't taste as good! They want you to buy the packaged ones!

"So perhaps there’s nothing inherently wrong with Rice Krispies Treats after all. Maybe our moral panic over weight gain and heart disease simply ruined a good thing." she says. Way to walk back the clickbait, lady. You earned your ad revenue, have a cookie.

The article finishes with additional deflection, this time to something valid that I've spoken about in the past- adjustments. The humble Rice Krispie Treat is one of the desserts that I sometimes call Baselines. Perfectly good on its own, but also neutral enough to be highly flexible in terms of flavor combinations. Mentioned are some pedestrian tweaks (Browning the butter? Adding salt? How remarkably innovative...) as well as a more interesting one (a dash of sesame oil and some toasted black sesame seeds) all of which serve to make clear that making impactful changes doesn't require making the recipe any more difficult. 

For a dessert where everything about making it is designed to be simple, what higher compliment could there be?